


Joy In The Darkness

by MistressSage



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Oral Sex, POV Legolas Greenleaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22658656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressSage/pseuds/MistressSage
Summary: New Year, New Me!The challenge was to write in a fandom or pairing that we've never written in. This was new for a lot of reasons. I've never written in LOTR, and I've never made an OC a main character. But this character has been in my head for like fifteen years. I just had to figure out how to squeeze her into the lore.So, the timeline and events are from the movies, but I pulled in some obscure lore to create this character. And Tolkien's lore often contradicts itself on some of these things.Also, the whole "elves only mate with one person and then they lose sexual interest" is blah. Welcome to my fanfic where my elves have STAMINA.Thanks to OllieMaye for reading over this for me!
Relationships: Legolas Greenleaf/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 53
Collections: Pen15 Challenge 10: New Year New Me





	Joy In The Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> New Year, New Me! 
> 
> The challenge was to write in a fandom or pairing that we've never written in. This was new for a lot of reasons. I've never written in LOTR, and I've never made an OC a main character. But this character has been in my head for like fifteen years. I just had to figure out how to squeeze her into the lore.
> 
> So, the timeline and events are from the movies, but I pulled in some obscure lore to create this character. And Tolkien's lore often contradicts itself on some of these things.
> 
> Also, the whole "elves only mate with one person and then they lose sexual interest" is blah. Welcome to my fanfic where my elves have STAMINA.
> 
> Thanks to OllieMaye for reading over this for me!

He had expected to die tonight.

He had expected his spirit to wake in the Halls of Mandos, to rest from this weary life for a time. Legolas had never thought he would be one to take the ships to Valinor. He loved Middle Earth. He loved adventure. There was so much he hadn’t seen. 

And since offering his bow to Frodo, he had thought many times that he would die here in this land that he loved. He would die trying to save it. It would be an honorable death, one that would make his ancestors proud. Perhaps even his father. 

He had been afraid. He had lashed out at Aragorn. Helm’s Deep was a lost cause; of that he was certain. It was the uncertainty that pained him. No one really knew what happened between death in Arda and the soul waking in the Halls. How long would it take? An instant? A millennium? Would there be pain?

But he accepted his fate. He fought alongside a dwarf, of all people. He fought alongside his woodland brethren, had watched Haldir fall. As a boy, he had thought Haldir invincible. The elf had taught him so much. 

Somehow, he was not dead. Gandalf had come through, first with the elves and now with the Rohirrim. Fangorn Forest had moved, ready to finish the fight. He smelled the fear rolling off the Orcs as he rode into the last leg of battle. Gandalf had brought someone else with him, a female with hair as dark as night who rode beside the wizard into to fray. Legolas didn’t know who she was, and something about her intrigued him. But this was battle, and he needed to focus.

When the battle ended and the sounds of screaming orcs rang in his elf-ears, he made his way back to the fortress to find Gimli. He refused to accept that he had lost to a Dwarf, but he was relieved that his friend was alive and no worse for the wear.

“Are you using that Uruk-hai as chair?” a melodic voice rang out.

Legolas turned to see the mysterious female standing with a smirk. She had removed her armor from the battle, revealing pratical riding clothes. Black flyaway hairs escaped her braid, and she had the most striking blue eyes Legolas had ever seen. 

“I am!” Gimli boasted. “This here creature was the last to fall to my axe.”

She laughed, and it was a symphony. A contagious symphony, for Legolas and Gimli fell into their own raucous laughter. They were alive despite all odds, and laughter was the only thing that felt right. 

“Forgive me,” Legolas said as their laughs subsided. “I saw you arrive with Gandalf, but I do not know you.”

“I am Eleniel of the East. An old friend of Gandalf’s.”

It was a Quenya name, an old name. “Eleniel? You are no elf.”

“No.” 

But she was not born of Men, either. Legolas could sense that; he didn’t know what she was. She offered no further explanation. 

Gimli hopped off the corpse and bowed. “Gimli, son of Gloin, at your service, m’lady.”

Legolas shook himself, remembering his manners. “Legolas of Mirkwood.”

Eleniel nodded with a smile. “Thranduil’s son. It is an honor to meet you both. Your sacrifice in joining the Fellowship is a blessing to us all.” She held Legolas’ gaze for a moment before turning to Gimli. “I’ve been fighting with your kinsmen in the north, Master Dwarf. They are keeping Sauron’s forces at bay with great fortitude.”

“Of course they are! Dwarves are the fiercest of all warriors. We protect our own.” Gimli puffed his chest out, and Legolas tried to not to roll his eyes. 

“Indeed.” She nodded at each of them. “I’m glad to have met you both, and I’m glad you survived the battle.”

She hurried away, and Legolas watched her leave. He wanted to know who she was. How did she know Gandalf? How did she come to fight among the Dwarves? Perhaps Aragorn would know her.

“All right there, laddie?”

Legolas blinked and turned to his companion. “What?”

Gimli chuckled. “I’d know that look anywhere.”

“What look?”

“Could it be that the young elven prince has had his heart pierced by a lovely lass?”

“Ridiculous. I find her…intriguing.”

Gimli tried to clap Legolas on the shoulder, but he was a Dwarf and slapped the Elf right on a bruise on his lower back. Legolas winced.

“Come on, laddie. Let’s go find Aragorn.”

Legolas sighed. “I’m older than you, remember. By millennia.”

“Aye, but you look so young. As young as that lass you’ve got eyes for.”

#

He should never have let Gimli talk him into this.

Legolas had discovered that Elves could, in fact, get drunk. Through his hazy mind, he wondered if he was the first or if other Elves knew and never talked about it. Elves didn’t talk about much that could be perceived poorly.

He left the crowded hall to get some fresh air. His keen Elven senses were dulled to the point of discomfort. He thought briefly if that’s what being a Man was like all the time. How awful that must be if so. 

It was late, but Edoras was alive. Those that weren’t celebrating in the Golden Hall were hosting parties of their own. He waved and smiled to those that offered him more drinks and brushed off the women who offered him companionship for the night.

It’s not that he didn’t desire that. It had been a long time. Not long in the life of an Elf, but this journey made his days pass slowly and lonely. He had been quite the philanderer in his first thousand years or so. Now, he craved more.

His mind was clearing, and his thoughts moved unbidden to Eleniel. On their journey to and from Isengard, he had thought of her often, though he did not ask Gandalf about her origin. He had caught glimpses of her over the last several days—she had become quite close with Eowyn—yet he avoided her, and he didn’t know why. Tonight, his eyes had been drawn to her. Her laughter lit up the room. 

Perhaps Gimli was right. 

He wandered out of the gates of Edoras to find some peace. He missed the forest. On a night like tonight, he would have found a tree to rest in and rejuvenate. But at least he was alone with the soft earth under his feet.

Or he thought he was alone. He felt her presence before he saw her, the beer still marring his vision. He looked up to see her sitting on the ground, her arms behind her and her head to the stars. He paused, unsure if he should disturb her. 

“Hello, Legolas.”

She didn’t turn to him, but her voice was kind. He was surprised. Drunk or not, he was an Elf, and he didn’t make noise when he moved in nature. Who was she?

“Hello.”

Eleniel sat up then. She turned her head toward him and smiled. “I was escaping the noise. Care to join me?”

Legolas closed the distance between them and sat on her left side. “It was…raucous.”

“Fun for a time, but I crave the quiet.”

He stared out into the distance. “I would think you’d be used to it with all the time you’ve spent with the Dwarves.”

She shrugged. “War is a different sort of noise, one I’ve never gotten used to. There hasn’t been much celebration among the northern Dwarves in some time.”

Legolas chastised himself for his insensitivity. “What brought you to Rohan?”

“Gandalf. He sent word when the Fellowship left Rivendell, but it took some time to reach me.”

Legolas nodded, unsure if she was looking at him. The more he learned about her, the more questions he had.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

He sat up straighter and faced her. “I have not.”

She fixed him with an intense but not unkind stare. Even in the dark, her eyes were vibrant. “You have, but I understand. You don’t know who I am or if you can trust me. After all, Gandalf trusted Saruman, yes? And you can’t figure me out with your Elven intuition and knowledge.”

Legolas fought the childish urge to squirm. It was a fair assessment.

She continued, “But I think there’s something else there. I think you want to trust me, and these other feelings scare you.”

His eyes had dropped to her lips as she spoke, and he forced himself to look back in her eyes. “You are not wrong.”

She smirked. “I know.”

“You are not Elf, but I don’t think you are of Men, either.”

“Correct.” She showed no sign of elaborating.

“You are immortal?”

“Thus far.”

He sighed. “Where do you hail from?”

“The East, past the Sea of Rhûm. I grew up in the forests there.”

“Why won’t you tell me what you are?”

She grabbed his hand and placed it over her heart. The skin above her neckline was cool, but he could feel the warmth from the muscle that pumped beneath it. “I’m a person of Middle-Earth. Isn’t that enough?”

Her voice had grown thick, and her eyes welled with tears. He did not move his hand, trapped between her bosom and her own hand. “You don’t know, either.”

“Not exactly, no.”

“Then it’s enough.” 

They stayed like that for several long moments. Though curious, his fears were assuaged, and what was left in its place was desire. He felt her breathing grow heavy under his touch. 

Eleniel leaned forward and brushed a tentative kiss across Legolas’ lips His heart thudded as she pulled away and looked into his eyes, searching.

He responded by kissing her back with urgency. Her lips were soft, and she tasted like wine and fresh rain. He moved one hand to her dark, silky hair and pulled her close. His other hand ran over her shoulder and down her arm until he laced his fingers with hers. 

He lowered her to the ground and lay beside her with his body pressed against hers. Until that moment, he had not realized how much he had craved touch and intimacy. Her body responded to her touch as he ran his hand over her. 

His lips left hers and moved to her neck. She smelled of the earth at twilight, and he thought he’d never get enough of her intoxicating scent. It wasn’t like the effects of the beer; her intoxication brought him to a new level of awareness.

She shifted into an upright position, bringing him with her, and divested him of his tunic. His heart thudded as she ran her hands over his bare chest and shoulders. The warmth of her touch was better than any blanket, any campfire. 

He removed her dress and undergarments and laid her back against the earth. After removing the rest of his clothes, hee kissed her again, and she led one of his hands to her breast. He teased her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, earning him a moan of pleasure in return. Her body arched against him. Slowly, he began to trail kisses down her chest and between her supple breasts. She shifted and parted her legs as he kissed down the gentle curve of her stomach to the patch of black hair.

He darted his tongue between the soft lips, and her hips bucked at the sensation. He sat to work circling the small nub of pleasure, changing the speed and intensity in response to her body’s reactions. It didn’t take long for her to climax, but he didn’t stop. 

Her fingers grasped his hair as he plunged two fingers inside of her. His tongue never stopped worshipping her until she cried out and pushed his head away. He licked his lips then smiled at her as she lay there panting, her dark hair splayed out like a fan on the ground. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured. 

Eleniel sat up then and pushed her hand against his chest until he was lying on the ground. She straddled him and took his length inside of her with a gasp. The sensation of her warmth around his erection drew a long groan from Legolas, and his eyes rolled back in his head. 

She rode him hard under the stars, occasionally bending down for long kiss. They came explosively, together, but they were not done. Legolas pulled himself into an upright position, positioning her in his lap, and they made love with their chests pressed against each other. The feel of her hard nipples against his chest sent shivers down his spine. He wound his fingers in her hair and she ran her tongue along his jaw.

He came with a shout that time, and she captured it with her mouth hot against his. They collapsed onto the soft grass with a sigh and laugh. Legolas took her hand in his, and they lay in silence for some time, blanketed by starlight. 

“It will be dawn in a few hours,” Eleniel said.

“Let it come.”

She sat up. “I’d rather not have my—er, Gandalf send out a search party and find us naked.” 

Her what? He furrowed his brow. He wished he knew how this mysterious woman from the east knew Mithrandir so well. Perhaps she had been one of his students. Whatever her history, she was correct. His companions would never let him live down such an embarrassment, especially Pippin and Gimli. 

They dressed and walked back to the gates of Edoras. The celebrations had subsided, although some still drank round their fires. Eleniel kissed him goodnight then slipped away to another entrance to the hall, perhaps back to wherever she was sleeping. He wished he knew. 

Inside, it was less crowded and raucous. Drunk men with their heads on tables. Those that were still awake were in quiet conversation. Aragorn caught his eye from across the room and raised his brow. Legolas nodded, his face stoic. 

Gimli was still snoring loudly where he’d left him. Legolas lifted his friend under the arms and hoisted him upright. He woke enough to walk, escorted by the Elf, to the room where they were staying. Once on his bedroll, the Dwarf fell right back to sleep. 

Legolas changed into his normal clothes instead of the fine tunic and pants he had worn for the party. When he left the room, Aragorn was headed in, the Hobbits close behind.

“I see you changed clothes,” Aragorn said with a small smile. “Is it anything to do with the large grass stain on your others?”

Legolas eyes widened. “Perhaps.”

Merry and Pippin stumbled past them with a thick-tongued, “Goodnight.” 

When they were in the room, Aragorn continued. “I noticed that Eleniel disappeared around the same time as you. Did you see her out on your walk?”

“I did.” He couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his face. “May I ask why all the questions?”

Aragorn clapped him on the back. “Friendly curiousity. These are dark times, Legolas. Find joy where you can.”

The rugged Man disappeared into the room, and Legolas—now rejuvenated—went outside. Legolas was musing on the dark times and the tiniest bits of joy when Aragorn joined him two hours later. 

His anger at Pippin and Sauron and the damned Palantir was palpable once the fear subsided. They had marred his first night of true happiness in what felt like years.

#

He watched as Eleniel wiped her eyes and embraced Gandalf one last time. Though she whispered it quietly, his keen hearing heard her say, “Take care, Uncle.”

He was still angry at Pippin, not only for dimming the joy of his night but for endangering them all. Still, it broke his heart to see him say goodbye to Merry. The two had been inseparable even through their near death. He hoped they would reuinite one day, but he wasn’t sure he believed it would happen.

He found Eleniel outside the gates that afternoon. Her blue eyes showed signs of crying, and he drew her into his arms. 

“It all feels so hopeless,” she said. “A never-ending battle, though I fear the end far worse.”

He kissed the top of her hair. “Mithrandir rides to Gondor. He has a plan, I’m certain. This is good.”

“Yes, it is. But my heart still aches.”

Despite the fear and the pain of another farewell, the following days were some of the happiest Legolas could remember. Normally, he would be restless, cooped up in the halls of Men, waiting for something that they didn’t know. There were no clear next steps. But Eleniel distracted him. He could have stayed in their tentative bliss for a long time. 

At one point, she pulled him into the stable and took him in her mouth. She pleasured him, and any care or concern of being caught left his mind. How long had it been since that intimate act? Was it the last time with Haldir? That had been half a century ago. 

He hiked up her skirts and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he braced her back against the wall for leverage. He buried his mouth against her bosom to stifle his moans as he came. 

They made love for hours at night, and they talked for hours during the days. They talked about places they’d been and people they’d met over their long lives. Legolas had never been as far East as Eleniel. She had never been further West than Rivendell. 

“How old are you?” he asked one night. He traced shapes along her soft stomach as they lay in her bed.

She sighed. “Two thousand and three, when last I did the math. I don’t remember when that was, though. A few months? A year?.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And you?”

He thought for a moment, calculating in his head. “Two thousand nine hundred thirty-one if I’m counting right.”

“The years run together after the first five hundred, don’t you think?”

“It really is right about then,” he agreed. Another thought occurred to him. “You were born not long after Mithrandir arrived in Middle-Earth. Just a dozen years or so, yes?”

She nodded and silenced him with a kiss. Soon, all of his questions were lost to the sensation of her body. 

Gondor called for aid the next day, and with Rohan’s answer came the end of his reverie. The next night of lovemaking was frantic.

Eleniel rode with them to the camp, but the air was heavy. Even her smile could not lighten the doom that lay before them. At Dunharrow, she set her tent near Eowyn’s. 

Legolas saw the way the Dimholt road called to Aragorn. It set his own teeth to chill. He knew that Aragorn would take that road, and he suspected he would try to do it alone. He told Gimli to keep an eye on Aragorn’s horse while he said goodbye to Eleniel.

He kissed her deeply. He should never have let himself feel this strongly about someone, not when his death was nearly guaranteed. Perhaps he would see her one day in the West, when their spirits had reunited with their bodies. But he didn’t know what the After held for her. 

He wiped away her tears with his thumbs. “No matter what the next days hold, I am glad to have known you.”

“As am I,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “Be well, Legolas.”

He thought of her as they rode the craggy passage through the mountains. Certain death awaited them. He had never asked her why she called Gandalf “uncle.” There was so much he didn’t know, so much time he wished he had. 

So many words he didn’t say.

#

Legolas didn’t even think. There was no time. This was like no battle he had ever seen. In fact, he’d never even seen an oliphaunt before he decided to take one down.

He nearly faced death over and over, and yet, somehow, he had survived again. And so had Gimli. Once he saw his friend, he let himself breathe a sigh of relief. Aragorn released the dead army. They would not have won without them.

But as they rode back to Minas Tirith, leaving Pelennor Fields stained in blood behind them, his thoughts returned to Eleniel. Had she fought? He knew she intended to. 

Had she survived?

He turned his head to survey the fields, hoping for a glance of her dark hair. Gandalf noticed and pulled Shadowfax alongside the Elf.

“She survived. I believe you’ll find her in the Houses of Healing.”

Legolas’ breath caught. “Is she injured?”

The old wizard shook his head. “No. She took Eowyn there. Eleniel’s healing skills will be needed for the injured.”

“Who is she, Mithrandir? I heard her call you Uncle in Edoras.”

Gandalf smiled. “Niece is the closest term. Her parents are my kin, of sorts.”

Legolas thought for a moment. Wizards were manifestations of the Maiar celestial beings. They could be called kin. But there were only five Wizards that had come to Middle-Earth. 

“She is the daughter of a Wizard?” If she were the daughter of Saruman, it would explain her reluctance to talk about her origin. But she came from the East. “A Blue Wizard?”

“Both, actually.”

“What?” Legolas furrowed his brow in confusion. “How is that possible?”

Gandalf chuckled. “You’ll have to ask her.”

“She seems reticent about the matter.”

The wizard was quiet for a moment, and Legolas picked up bits of conversations between Aragorn and the others. Gimli was recounting the battle with what was surely great exaggeration. 

“Eleniel shouldn’t exist. None of us knew that we could have children, let alone a child whose parents were both Wizards. Is she Maiar? Not truly. But she is not an Elf or a Man or a Dwarf. She has some abilities like her parents and myself, but not all. She is truly alone, and it hurts her to be reminded of that.”

Legolas tightened his grip on the reins since he couldn’t hold Eleniel in his arms. His heart ached for her. 

Gandalf glanced over at him. “Perhaps she could learn not to be alone.”

The Elf smiled. “Perhaps.”

“After all, a certain Elvish prince has had a reputation for being solitary, never quite fitting in.”

A lifetime of memories flashed through Legolas’ mind. Gandalf’s assessment was accurate. And he had all but given his approval. But the war was not yet won. For now, all Legolas wanted was to see Eleniel again.

After a long wash and a meal, Legolas went with Aragorn to the Houses of Healing. He saw her kneeling next to Eowyn’s bedside with her hand on the woman’s head, muttering words under her breath. She looked up when Aragorn knelt and took Eowyn’s hand in his.

Eleniel’s sky-blue eyes widened when she saw Legolas at the foot of the bed. She scrambled to her feet and threw her arms around him. He held her tightly as she wept into his chest.

“You’re alive,” she whispered over and over. 

He lay his cheek against the top of her head, breathing in her earthen scent that was mixed with sweat and blood. “You’re not hurt?”

“A few scrapes, but nothing that won’t heal quickly.” She pulled her head from his chest to look up at him. He wiped her tears with his thumbs. “The battle…it was unreal. The Nazgûl…I’ve never…”

“I know.” He kissed her brow. “I know.” He held her close again, not wanting to let her go. “Is it true Eowyn killed the Witch-King?”

He felt her nod. “She did, after Theoden fell.”

“Will she heal?”

“It will be a long recovery, but yes, she’ll heal.”

Aragorn stood. “Thank you for saving her, Eleniel. Rohan will be grateful. She is loved by her people, and for good reason.”

Eleniel smiled a watery smile. “I must attend to the other patients. The healers need all the help they can get.”

“Have you eaten? Rested?” Legolas asked her.

She reached up and stroked his cheek. “Eaten, yes, a bit. I’ll rest soon.”

“Come find me when you can.”

He brushed his lips against hers and watched her hurry off to her next patient. Aragorn gave him a knowing smile. “Come, my friend. We have much to discuss. Our work is not done, either.”

Legolas’ heart swelled with pride as he watched Aragorn take charge of Gondor. He was born to lead and to unite the world of Men. It had taken him far too long to realize it. Gimli slept for a solid day, relieved to be in a proper bed in his own room for the first time in months.

At night, Eleniel came to Legolas. She was too weary to make love, but he held her as she slept. He made sure she remembered to eat, often bringing her bites of lembas as she worked. 

“I know about your parents,” he told her the second night.

She rolled her eyes. “My uncle has always been far too concerned about my love life.”

“He cares for you.”

“I know.” She propped herself on her elbow in the plush bed. “It’s hard to talk about. He thinks it’s just because I feel alone or unsure, which I do but…my mother has always been protective of her identity. Many among the Men—and even the Elves—would be shaken if they knew she was female. Besides Galadriel, there are few females with that sort of power. She has never wanted to cause an upset of people’s faith.”

“They’re alive?”

“Oh, yes. They’ve helped fight in the East, but they could never find where Sauron’s stronghold was. Too many Men fell to the darkness. I came West because I knew that our best chance to win is here.”

He kissed her brow. “You are an awe-inspiring person, Eleniel.”

She snuggled against his bare chest. “I’m glad to be beside you tonight, Legolas.”

#

The night before they marched on the Black Gates, Legolas made love as if it were his last night—because in all likelihood it was. If their plan failed, if Frodo didn’t make it, all was lost. Middle-Earth would fall to darkness. That knowledge pumped through Legolas’ blood as he worshipped Eleniel for hours.

She had decided to ride with the warriors after much internal debate—and external, though Legolas simply listened. Her skills and understated magic had helped many in the Houses of Healing, and she was reluctant to leave her patients. It was Eowyn who had finally said what she needed to hear: “If you fail, then none of us will need healers. Gondor will be the first to fall. If you succeed and live, then you can come back here.”

Eleniel relayed the words to Legolas in his room with tears in her eyes. Then she launched herself at him, undressing him with frantic urgency. He ripped her dress in response, needing to feel her naked skin against his.

She pushed him onto the bed and straddled his waist. Her lips crashed onto his, dark hair hanging like a curtain over them, and he ran his hands over her smooth back. She nibbled his neck, his earlobes, his chest. Legolas lost himself in the sounds of their hearts’ erratic beating.

He lifted her under her buttocks and guided her onto his long erection. His hands stroked her stomach and squeezed her breasts as she rode him. After they came together, he flipped her around till her back was on the bed. Her nails dug into his strong shoulders as he moved inside her. 

They spent the rest of the night in various positions to remind themselves that they were alive—for however long they had left. He made love to her with his mouth until she screamed out his name. She sucked and licked him until he saw stars. 

At dawn, they rose and dressed in their armor in silence. In most of the battles he’d fought, Legolas felt a rush of excitement. This was different. He watched as Eleniel braided her hair away from her face. The feeling of impending loss pierced his heart like an arrow.

She gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes as she reached for the door handle. He grabbed her hand and squeezed. 

“I love you, Eleniel. Perhaps it’s foolish, as we haven’t known each other long, but I wanted to say it in case…”

Eleniel kissed him hard, her tongue pushing its way inside his mouth. He cupped her face with his hands and poured his heart into returning her desperate kiss. They didn’t part until a knock on their door startled them.

“It’s time, laddie,” Gimli’s voice said through the door without its usual spark of life.

“I’ll be right there,” Legolas called back. He listened to the Dwarf shuffle off, his armor clinking. 

Eleniel put her hand on Legolas’ face. “I love you, too.”

“If we survive this—”

“Shh.” She shook her head. “I can’t think about what ifs right now.”

And with that, the two lovers walked to their fate.

#

Despite all odds, they had survived. Somehow, none of the rest of the Fellowship had fallen since Boromir. Frodo and Sam had destroyed the ring. 

Eleniel lived. 

After the battle, he recalled the glimpses he had caught of her fighting. She had fought with fury and grace, every fiber of her being desperate to make a stand for Middle-Earth. 

Eowyn would heal, as would Faramir. 

Legolas had never known such joy.

He walked hand-in-hand with Eleniel in the crisp spring air a few days later when Gimli ran up to them, panting from the exertion. 

“Frodo’s awake, laddie!”

A grin spread across Legolas’ face. Eleniel smiled at him and kissed his cheek. “I’ll find you later.” He nodded and hurried after Gimli to greet the ringbearer.

The next weeks were the happiest of Legolas’ life. The Fellowship spent hours recounting their journeys to each other. Many of his kin arrived for the coronation of Aragorn, including Arwen. Aragorn’s face when Legolas stepped aside and revealed her would shine on in his memory forever. 

But he did not return with the Elves. His heart was here now, with Gimli and with Eleniel. Soon, he began to feel restless, and he could tell the other felt the same. 

“There’s Orcs that need hunting,” Gimli said over pints of ale one night. “We’ve become quite skilled at it.”

“And so many places to see,” Eleniel added with a faraway look in her eye. “So many people to see.”

Legolas thought about his friends in Mirkwood. He thought about meeting Gimli’s kin. Perhaps the Elves and Dwarves could make peace. He’d never been to the East, where Eleniel’s parents made their home.

“We could go. The three of us.”

“Go where?” she asked.

He smiled. “Wherever we want. Our quest is complete.”

Gimli broke into raucous laughter, which soon spread to the other two. “We shall!”

Saying goodbye was hard. But they could return to Gondor in the future. Eleniel cried as she said farewell to Eowyn, promising to visit Rohan soon. The Hobbits offered them a standing invitation, and Legolas had never been to the Shire.

On the day they left, the sun was high in the sky. Gimli clung to his waist behind him, and Eleniel rode next to him. He looked over at her as they stood outside the gates of the city. Her blue eyes glittered in the sunlight as she grinned at him.

He had found his place in this world.

**Author's Note:**

> Eleniel means "daughter of a celestial one" in Quenya.


End file.
